Chapter 85 – "Those Who Remain"
After Orvyn sealed his own son inside the extra-narrative Cylube, a single tear slid down his cheek.
His gaze remained fixed on the floating prison — a cube of white energy gently pulsing in the dimensional void.
— I hope… he finds his way back.
The cube vibrated one last time before stabilizing.
Then silence fell.
Not a peaceful silence — no.
It was the silence of a father who had condemned his child… to save him.
---
Zarion, Naël, and Valen slowly approached, followed by Lya, Nova, and Valor.
The group reformed — a little bruised, a little weary, but united — like a forgotten constellation finally regaining its original shape.
Valen, arms crossed, his left eye still glowing red, said mockingly:
— So, let me get this straight… Liora was you all along, you sly fox?
You were out here giving orders, playing the sexy strategist, while secretly being a divine ancestor in disguise?
Orvyn, slightly embarrassed, looked away:
— I… I'm not that old. Look at my face, I'm youthful. And I was convincing, wasn't I?
Valen chuckled:
— Convincing? Dude, you've got the aura of a talking antique that speaks in verse.
Zarion smirked:
— Still sharp as ever, Valen.
— And still alive, Valen replied with a wink.
Orvyn sighed softly, his tone calm but nostalgic:
— It's been a long time since we last saw each other.
Zarion nodded:
— Since I left my parents' palace to explore creation in human avatar form.
Remember? I took the form of a crystal merchant… and you said I scared children.
Orvyn allowed himself a rare smile:
— You did more than scare them. Some still have nightmares.
---
The tone grew heavier.
Zarion frowned.
— You said you were the last of the ancient humans. What do you mean?
What happened while I was gone?
Orvyn stared into the void, his face closed off:
— The story is simple, and tragic.
The ancient humans were exterminated. All of them. I alone survived.
Zarion froze:
— Wait… what?
And the other races? My parents? They did nothing?
Orvyn sighed:
— Your parents never intervene. You know that.
Two races were completely wiped out.
The others suffered disappearances… but they survive. For now.
Zarion clenched his fists:
— So the threat was that great?
Don't tell me it was my twin again.
Orvyn:
— Absolutely not. He had nothing to do with it.
Zarion:
— Then who was it?
Orvyn, in a strategic and mysterious tone, looked away:
— You'll find out soon enough.
Valen frowned:
— Another one of your suspense lines, huh?
You're worse than the old narrators, I swear. Just say the name, you cryptic fossil!
Orvyn, stoic:
— You'll know when the time is right.
Valen threw up his hands:
— Yeah yeah, classic. "When the time is right." Did you take a class in dramatic prophecy or something?
---
Orvyn fell silent for a moment, then closed his eyes.
His golden aura shifted into a soft, silvery mist.
His body slowly reformed, his features becoming more feminine — and Liora reappeared.
Valen, mock-impressed:
— Ah, there she is. The commander. More charisma, more royal aura.
I prefer this version. Feels like a divine update — "Orvyn 2.0."
Liora raised an eyebrow:
— Careful, Valen. The last person who made that kind of joke vanished into a time loop.
Zarion, curious:
— But why completely dissolve your mortal body just to reform your original one?
Couldn't you just… activate your form?
Liora sighed, returning to her strategist tone:
— It's not that simple.
A mortal body can't withstand the pressure of divine essence.
I had to destroy my host to forge a stable vessel.
Now, I keep my true form sealed inside.
It's… like wearing armor beneath your skin.
Valen:
— So basically, you're a living suit of armor with repressed emotions. Stylish.
Lya rolled her eyes:
— Valen, please shut up.
---
The scenery around them slowly faded.
The dimension Orvyn had created vanished, returning them to the Sanctuary — now in ruins.
Broken columns floated in the air, shattered pillars scattered across the ground.
Zarion broke the silence:
— Even sealed… you should've been stronger.
Like Elyon said, something weakened you.
What happened?
Liora lowered her gaze.
A brief flicker of sadness crossed her eyes.
— It's a long story.
And I'd rather not talk about it… not yet.
Valen sighed, but said nothing.
Even he understood that some memories are too heavy, even for jokes.
---
Inside the extra-narrative Cylube
The space was white.
No shadows. No direction.
Only the dull pulse of a light breathing slowly, like a cosmic heart.
At the center, Elyon sat cross-legged, arms folded, sulking.
— Seriously? A narrative cube?
Dad, you've got the taste of a third-rate prison designer.
This feels like a failed DLC.
He stood, punched a wall.
No reaction.
He tried to summon a weapon: nothing.
Even his own energy dissolved the moment it formed.
— Alright. I get it. I'm grounded.
But what does "repent" even mean when you're born of chaos?
Am I supposed to do spiritual push-ups or something?
Suddenly, a voice echoed.
Not Orvyn's.
Not the voice of Judgment.
But a gentle voice. Ancient.
A voice full of love… and regret.
— You weren't born of chaos, Elyon.
You were born of love… and of a mistake.
And now, you must choose what you want to become.
Elyon froze.
His gaze trembled.
His lips parted slightly.
— Mom…?
Chapter 86 – "Rest and Resonance"
Back at the Sanctuary, Naël, Zarion, Lya, Nova, Valor, and Valen were preparing to leave.
The ground still trembled from the aftermath of battle, but the air felt lighter — as if the world itself was finally breathing again.
Ethereal glimmers floated in the sky, remnants of recently dissipated divine energies.
Peace, fragile but real, was settling in.
Suddenly, two figures appeared on the horizon: Arthur Pendragon and Béatrice, covered in divine dust and golden light shards.
Arthur dragged Excalibur behind him, panting, while Béatrice adjusted her cape with graceful exasperation.
Arthur wiped his forehead and said with mock detachment:
— Seraphiel is neutralized. That was… one hell of a bird.
Pretty sure I still have celestial feathers stuck in my hair.
Béatrice, smiling, patted his shoulder:
— We never could've done it without my dear Arthur. Such mastery, such nobility… and such clumsiness too.
Arthur, blushing:
— No, stop flattering me, fair lady.
I'm sure without you, I'd still be running through a dimensional corridor yelling "EXCALIBUR!" like an idiot.
Béatrice, playfully annoyed:
— No, Arthur. Stop flattering me. I should be thanking you.
An awkward silence settled.
Then Arthur and Béatrice exchanged a shy smile — sincere and theatrical, just like them.
Valen, watching the scene, raised an eyebrow and muttered to Elyonna, perched on his shoulder in her miniature form:
— Look at that show-off. Still flirting after a cosmic war.
I swear, he could charm a primordial entity if it had eyes.
Elyonna, arms crossed:
— You say that, but you haven't seen how Nova looks at Zarion when he talks about vortexes.
I swear, she's like a priestess before her math god.
Nova, overhearing, nearly stumbled.
Zarion simply raised an eyebrow, looking innocent.
— It's not my fault my theories on dimensional quantum gravity are fascinating.
Naël rolled his eyes.
— Here we go again… Scientific chaos returns to the Sanctuary.
Valen sighed deeply.
— I need a bath. And an astral massage. My soul has cramps.
Lya stretched her arms with a smile.
— As long as your bath doesn't blow up the room like last time, I'm in.
Valen raised a hand, mock-offended:
— It was an alchemical relaxation experiment!
Naël, hands behind his head, chuckled:
— Experiment or not, you nearly created a time bubble in the bathtub.
I didn't sign up for an interdimensional spa trip.
Liora, calm and composed, brought silence back:
— Let's go. The Sanctuary needs rest… and so do we.
The group set off again, exhausted but united.
The wind brushed their faces, carrying with it the echoes of past battles — and the promise of a gentler tomorrow.
---
Inside the Cube – Beyond the Narrative
Meanwhile, in the white space where Elyon was imprisoned, silence reigned.
Not an empty silence — a heavy, dense, almost living one.
A silence that listened.
Elyon sat at the center of the cube, knees drawn up, head bowed.
His once raging aura was now a flickering glow, like a flame nearing its end.
He whispered:
— …Mom? Is that you?
A gentle light appeared before him.
Not a form. Not a voice.
Just… a presence.
Warm. Unknown, yet familiar.
— I'm not your mother.
I am what remains of her… in your heart.
Elyon frowned:
— You mean… an illusion? A memory?
— No. I am what you refuse to hear.
The part of you that knows you've lost your way.
The part that cries when you pretend to laugh.
A bitter smirk formed on his lips.
— I didn't lose my way. I was made for this.
For chaos. For the Throne.
The light flickered, as if shaken by pain.
— You were made from love, Elyon.
And you chose chaos.
But you can still choose something else.
Elyon stepped back, troubled, almost afraid.
— Why now? Why here?
— Because this is the first time you can't run.
No portal. No blade.
Just you… and the truth.
Then, around him, fragments began to float:
— A hand caressing a baby.
— A voice softly singing.
— A clear laugh.
— A whispered promise: "You will be loved, even in the shadows."
Elyon fell to his knees, eyes wet.
— I… I didn't mean to…
— Then say it.
Not to me.
To yourself.
Elyon clenched his fists.
His breath caught.
And for the first time in ages, the Prince of Chaos cried without hiding.
The walls of the cube trembled slightly — not with energy, but with resonance.
As if the universe itself was finally hearing his silent repentance.
Chapter 87 – "The Fracture and the Awakening"
Inside the Cube – Beyond the Narrative
Silence had settled like a shroud of memory.
Elyon, still kneeling, felt his breath slow.
The cube around him seemed to breathe in sync, as if it had finally found a rhythm with its occupant.
The light before him no longer spoke.
It waited.
— I'm tired… he whispered.
Not physically.
Not magically.
Tired of being what others expected of him.
Tired of being a symbol.
Tired of being chaos, the son of the Throne, the useful monster.
— If I'm not chaos… then what am I?
The light moved closer.
It didn't burn.
It cradled.
— You are what you choose to be.
And you've just chosen… to stop running.
Suddenly, the Cube pulsed.
Not violently.
Like a heart beginning to beat again.
Each pulse made the fragments of light tremble, as if space itself remembered.
Around Elyon, the shards of memory began to rearrange.
They formed a spiral.
Then a circle.
Then… a silhouette.
A child.
Him.
Before the Throne.
Before chaos.
Before hatred.
— You forgot me, said the child, voice soft but accusatory.
Elyon froze.
His breath caught.
He slowly reached out.
The child hesitated, then took his hand.
In that touch, something broke.
Not a barrier.
A fracture.
An echo of truth.
An invisible thread linking the monster to the child he once was.
And in that fracture… a new breath awakened.
---
On the Road to HQ
The hunter group — Valen, Lya, Naël, Zarion, Nova, Valor, Arthur Pendragon, and Béatrice — walked in a scattered line.
Behind them, Liora, the Commander, brought up the rear with a firm stride, cape billowing.
The plain ahead seemed peaceful — too peaceful for a world that had just skirted extinction.
Lya, already bored, suddenly dove into the ground like a specter.
She popped her head up right in front of Valen's feet.
— Seriously, how far is HQ? We're gonna fossilize before we get there.
Liora rolled her eyes without slowing:
— Shut up and walk, Lya.
Lya, dramatically:
— So harsh. Even the ground is judging me now.
Naël stretched:
— Honestly, a little flight formation wouldn't hurt.
We've defeated gods — we can skip a bit of walking.
Liora, without turning:
— If anyone unfolds a single wing, I swear I'll send them to fix the Sanctuary gates barehanded.
Valen laughed:
— Relax a little, Commander. Breathe the fresh air!
Feels good after all that dimensional mess, doesn't it?
Zarion, with a rare smile:
— For once, I agree with him.
It's nice not to be dying.
Valor sighed, checking his reflection in a shard of metal:
— Lya's right… we're filthy.
People are gonna stare. We look like a team of failed stunt doubles.
Lya nodded:
— Yeah, imagine tomorrow's headlines: Humanity's heroes smell like divine sweat.
Arthur raised his sword, princely:
— Stop the drama. No one's paying attention to you.
Valor, offended:
— Excuse me? You think we go unnoticed?
We defeated celestial entities, saved worlds, and blew up three realities!
We're celebrities! Think of our image!
Nova rolled her eyes:
— They'll mostly think our heroes fought a giant portal without shampoo breaks. Use your brains.
Naël burst out laughing:
— Imagine the magazine: Cosmic Beauty — How to Keep Your Hair Silky After a Dimensional Battle?
Lya snorted:
— With you on the cover, obviously.
Arthur sighed, exasperated:
— By the Holy Grail… what a bunch of lunatics.
Béatrice, smiling:
— You love them and you know it.
Arthur, blushing:
— I… no! Well… maybe a little. But just a tiny bit.
Valen shrugged:
— One day, I swear, we'll make a sitcom out of the Sanctuary. Chaos & Coffee Chronicles.
Lya:
— As long as Valen's bathroom stays off-camera, I'm in.
Everyone burst out laughing — even Liora allowed herself a fleeting smile.
But the laughter faded abruptly when she stopped in her tracks.
Her gaze drifted toward the sky.
— …The Cube.
Zarion frowned:
— What about the Cube?
— It's cracked.
A chill ran through the group.
Even the air seemed to freeze.
Valor, worried:
— You mean your son… broke free?
Liora remained silent for a moment.
Then, in a calm, almost serene voice:
— Not just that.
He repented.
---
Back in the Cube
Elyon opened his eyes.
But they were no longer the same.
No longer red.
They were… gray.
Like the ashes of a fire that chose not to burn.
The light before him faded gently.
The child too.
But their imprint remained, etched into his soul.
— I'm no longer what I was…
But I don't yet know what I am.
The Cube pulsed one last time, as if answering him.
Then, slowly… it cracked.
A soft light escaped — neither divine nor dark — human.
Elyon lifted his head, gaze drifting between two worlds.
And for the first time, he didn't seek to dominate them.
He sought to understand them.
Chapter 88 – "Redemption or Rebirth"
On the Road to HQ
A rumble shook the air.
The group stopped in their tracks.
The wind began to swirl, charged with an unfamiliar energy — neither divine nor dark.
Something… new.
Zarion raised his hand, focused.
— This flow… it's coming from the Cube.
Liora clenched her fists.
— It's too soon. He wasn't supposed to…
Valen, looking uneasy:
— Is it just me, or does "too soon" always mean imminent disaster with you?
Lya, shifting into a defensive stance:
— Just saying, if your son comes out with your morning mood, we're doomed.
Liora shot her a cold glare.
— …Keep talking and I'll put you in a cube too.
Naël raised his hands:
— Okay, everyone chill. If Elyon's coming back, we'll know soon enough what mood he's in.
If we die in ten seconds, it was the wrong day.
Valor sighed:
— You really have a gift for reassurance.
Suddenly, the sky cracked slightly, like an invisible pane of glass shattering.
A gentle rain of luminous fragments fell, soft, almost beautiful.
And at the center of that rain, a silhouette descended.
Elyon.
His feet touched the ground without a sound.
His black wings were gone.
In their place, two trails of gray, vaporous energy danced behind him.
His gaze was no longer that of the Prince of Chaos.
It was… something else.
Peaceful. Tired. Human.
Valen frowned:
— …Is it just me, or does he look less demonic than usual?
Elyon looked at him and smiled, faintly.
— Maybe the demon just learned how to breathe.
Lya, whispering to Valen:
— Good sign or bad?
— No idea. If he compliments me, it's a trap.
Liora stepped forward slowly, her steps heavy with restraint and fear.
— Elyon…
He turned his head toward her.
No defiance.
No arrogance.
Just the gaze of a child recognizing his mother.
— Mother.
The word echoed in the wind like a forgotten prayer.
Liora stopped a few meters away.
— What do you see when you look at me?
The jailer? The commander? Or the mother who locked you away?
Elyon closed his eyes.
— I see… the one who stopped me from getting lost.
A hush fell over the group.
Even Arthur was speechless.
Béatrice placed a hand on his shoulder, moved.
Zarion, in a measured tone:
— His energy flows are stable. No aggression, no distortion.
He's… changed.
Nova, intrigued:
— But into what?
Elyon raised his hand.
From his palm emerged a silver glow — neither destructive nor divine.
A neutral energy. Balanced.
Alive.
— Before, I wanted to destroy.
Now, I want to understand.
Chaos isn't an end… it's a language.
And I spent my life screaming it without ever listening.
Lya, quietly:
— Wow. He talks like a philosopher now. Are we sure that's Elyon?
Valen, teasing:
— Or maybe he got a cosmic update. Version 2.0: Zen Elyon.
Naël stifled a laugh:
— That's all we needed. A pacifist Elyon. What kind of world is this?
Liora stepped closer.
Her gaze finally softened.
— So, what do you plan to do now?
Elyon looked up at the sky, where the last fragment of the Cube faded into light.
— Rebuild myself.
And maybe… repair what I've broken.
A breath swept across the land.
The ground trembled, then stilled.
The air felt purer, lighter — as if the fracture between two worlds had just begun to heal.
Arthur, resting Excalibur on his shoulder:
— Well, I don't know about you, but I'm craving a banquet.
Between the repentant, the resurrected, and the demigods, we've earned a meal.
Béatrice, laughing:
— Finally, a good idea, Sir Pendragon.
Valen raised his hand:
— I vote yes. If we don't eat soon, I'll turn into a vortex too.
Lya:
— You already are. A vortex of trouble.
Naël:
— Come on, let's go.
But this time — no portals, no cubes, no cataclysms.
Just… rest.
Zarion, arms crossed:
— That's what we always say before everything explodes again.
A collective laugh rang out.
Even Elyon smiled.
And in that smile, there was no fear, no hatred — only the promise of a new beginning.